


Taste of Desire

by CinderAndAshes



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Addiction, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Johnny Cash voice: I hurt myself today..., Sorry guys, Unhappy Ending, Yikes, aka why am I doing this to myself, also not very relevant, but it's not very relevant, i can't watch s4 currently so have some freaking ANGST, i made myself sad writing this, isn't gloria hurting me enough already, just pain and suffering, just realised the title might be misleading there, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, mentions of depression and anxiety, negative spiraling, no sexy times stuff going on here, not smutty at all, open discussion of addiction, the rest of the fam is mentioned in passing, vague mention of Avery being in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderAndAshes/pseuds/CinderAndAshes
Summary: His lips were intoxicating - the way their corners curled into that open, disarming smile of his, the plumpness of their shape that got really accentuated when he smacked them together, the pink colour that glistened when his tongue flitted across them... No, scratch that. He was intoxicating - lips, eyes, smile, long gangly limbs, surprisingly firm abs, annoying yet endearing personality, the whole package.______________She was intoxicating. Always had been, always would. It was Pen, after all. So temperamental, so loud and colourful, so lively. So alive. She made him feel alive with her mere presence. Made him want to be alive and be around her as much as posssible and drink her in.Maybe he should have already gotten a clue when he had thought of her as intoxicating. He had a lot - a lot of experience with intoxication, after all.
Relationships: Penelope Alvarez/Schneider
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Taste of Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This...came out of nowhere and hit me like a freight train. It's also a bit choppy and I probably should have edited this heavily but I need to get this out of my head. Honestly, mind the tags. This is not a happy fic and it has no happy or hopeful ending. I'm sorry. I'd have liked my entrance into this fandom's fics to be more upbeat.
> 
> This is not beta read. Any mistakes are mine. Please be aware that English is not my mother tongue.

His lips were intoxicating - the way their corners curled into that open, disarming smile of his, the plumpness of their shape that got really accentuated when he smacked them together, the pink colour that glistened when his tongue flitted across them... No, scratch that. He was intoxicating - lips, eyes, smile, long gangly limbs, surprisingly firm abs, annoying yet endearing personality, the whole package. It was weird. Then, again, maybe it wasn't that weird. Not as weird as she was by now used to telling herself it was.  
The girls at therapy always joked about her "hottie landlord" and "are you really sure you're not doing the horizontal tango with him, Pen, because honestly, none of us would judge you for finally admitting it - yeah, okay, Jill would but she constantly judges everybody so, really, what's the difference - and if you're really not doing it would you mind introducing him to one of us to bang him instead already?".  
Suddenly, as she recalled their last session, she came to a revelation. In the beginning, the girls had mostly laughed about what she told of him. Only with time, the tone had changed to that of a horde of horny women wanting some hot action. But what had caused that change? Because Schneider was mostly the same. He had changed very little.  
The next moment, she scoffed at herself for that thought. Of course he had changed. Incredibly so, even. He had become her best friend. He had learned Spanish. He had fallen off the deep edge and climbed up again, fighting himself tooth and nail the entire way. He had had his first serious relationship. He had matured. Often indiscernably so, but he had. Like wine. Or maybe like that one runny kind of cheese he liked so much.  
No, definitely like wine. She really liked wine, for once. And she enjoyed having a glass or maybe half a bottle every now and then. Especially to unwind and relax. And as much as he could get her wound up and yelling and hissing like a harpy, he knew exactly how to calm her down when it counted. That was why she came to him with her anxiety attacks, after all. 

She was intoxicating. Always had been, always would. It was Pen, after all. So temperamental, so loud and colourful, so lively. So alive. She made him feel alive with her mere presence. Made him want to be alive and be around her as much as posssible and drink her in. Her presence, her personality, her friendship. Her everything. She kept him up at night but also was why he could sleep at all. She made his life interesting.  
...oh. Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono. Please no.  
He gulped.  
His hands were clammy and he had drops of sweat forming on his brow before he had even finished processing his train of thought. Maybe he should have already gotten a clue when he had thought of her as intoxicating. He had a lot - a lot of experience with intoxication, after all.  
This was not good. This was awful. How could that have happened? Immediately, he knew how stupid that question was. Of course it had happened. He was an addict. He had the personality of an addict and he was prone to addictions of all kinds. But when...when had Penelope become the addiction instead of the counter-measure?  
He felt like puking his guts out. There was only one solution for him when it came to addictions. He had to cut the source of them out of his life or they would ruin him. That's how it had been with smoking. That was how it had been with gambling. And, of course, that's how it had been with drugs and alcohol.  
He still craved alcohol. All the time. But he could live without it. The thought of living without Pen and, subsequently, the rest of the Alvarezes on the other hand... Everything inside him recoiled at that thought. No, he could not even imagine it. A hollowness spread through his chest that immediately began to cave in beneath. He shuddered. That was exactly how he had been thinking about alcohol, once. About drugs. About cigarettes. Even about gambling for some time. He was an addict. That's what he did. Think he couldn't live without something that actually ruined him.  
But Pen did not ruin him.  
...  
......  
.........did she?  
No, it couldn't be. Pen and her family were what held him upright when he was in danger of falling down again. That could not be a bad thing.  
...just like how one drink couldn't be a bad thing if it made him able to stand up to his father and defend the only people that had ever truly mattered to him?, a traitorous little voice whispered in his head.  
Groaning, he took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose. His thoughts were spiralling. Never a good thing for him.  
He fished the smartphone out of his trousers pocket and scrolled through his contacts. It took him a moment to realize where he had automatically stopped and that his finger was hovering above Penelope's entry. It took even longer to force himself away from dialing and asking her for advice and scroll back up again.  
He needed to tell Pen. More importantly, he wanted, no, itched to tell Pen. Which was exactly why he couldn't. There was only one person he could talk to about this conundrum.  
He tapped at the screen and after a couple of seconds, the speaker crackled. Before his talking partner could greet him, he spoke up hastily.  
"Hey, Nick. I need your help. I... I think I have a problem."

It was Friday evening and like a miracle, the apartment was empty. Penelope could barely believe her luck. Elena had a romantic outing with Syd, Alex had a date as well (and wasn't that still something she couldn't wrap her head around) and Lydia had left about half an hour ago with Dr. B to go watch Carmen. Admittedly, she was slightly worried how well that would go over with her mother's hot-blooded temperament, but they had survived getting banned from the opera once already so, really, how much worse could it even get.  
At first, she had considered an evening all for her, herself and she but soon knew that she was not in the right mood to be entirely alone in the unusually silent apartment. So, she had texted Schneider if he was up to a trashy-sappy-but-mostly-trashy movie night with popcorn and some of the reconquered good cookies. She had even taken out one of the few bottles of his favourite stupid fancy homebrew hipster brand soda they had stocked in the back of their fridge so he didn't always have to bring some downstairs. She was more partial to a not-too-expensive red wine drier than the Afghani desert she had found on her last shopping trip. She poured herself a generous amount into the wine glass and looked at the door. Schneider was due to barge in any minute now.  
A voice in the back of her head that sounded a suspicious amount like her mami nagged her that she should change her mind and quickly get into some nicer clothes but she squashed that voice down with a fervour. She had been thinking about what to wear for an inappropriate amount of time. It was just a cozy movie night at home. And it was just Schneider, for Christ's sake! No matter how often her heart skipped a beat at that thought, it was. just. Schneider. No need to dress up and throw on a little more make-up than usual. No need to steal a little spray of her mami's best perfume. This was not the first time they had chilled out in their jammies. And it also was most decidedly not a date! So there was no need to worry that she wasn't looking good enough. Nobody had ever seen her as dishevelled and distraught as Schneider already had, so there wasn't even any point in pretending. So why didn't her mind shut up about it?  
She groaned and knocked back a big gulp of wine.  
What a mess she was. Obsessing over what she should wear for a lazy night with her best friend. He was almost guaranteed to show up in his bathrobe, anyway!

The door was opened with a flourish and Schneider greeted her with his patented megawatt grin and a silly pose displaying the embroidered 'S' on his bathrobe. He was holding his favorite pillow, two tubs of Ben&Jerry's and a large bowl full of that ridiculously pricey toffee caramel popcorn he knew she loved despite her protests against such accusations.  
"I've heard there's gonna be an epic trash night ahead of us," he proclaimed, "So I've come prepared!"  
She grinned back at him, suddenly feeling as excited as he looked and made grabby motions towards the snacks. "Gimme!"  
"Alright, alright. No rusg. I know you want me here for the goodies, anyway," he joked and plonked down onto the sofa. He was laughing but she couldn't bring herself to join him. She wanted him there for so much more and that thought was overwhelming her.  
Apparently, she had been silent for too long because he stopped smiling and tilted his head questioningly as he looked at her with a slight frown. "Pen? Is everything alright?"  
She couldn't help herself anymore. She grabbed his face in both hands and hungrily kissed him.

For a moment, the sensations were too much, never mind the thoughts in his brain tripping all over themselves. Then, the horrible shard of reality wedged itself into his brain and made him stop in his track. All he could perceive was the taste of wine on her lips settling over to his. His brain came to a screeching halt and he as good as wrenched himself away, panic bubbling up in his chest and pressing against his lungs.  
He didn't know whether he wanted to grab the bottle and chug down the rest of the wine in one desperate gulp or drown himself in Penelope's lips until he forgot how to breathe. So, he did neither and followed the wisest impulse he could have in any situation where an addictive urge reared its head: he stumbled off the sofa and brought some distance between himself and the objects of his itching desire.  
Penelope was still kneeling on the couch, leaned over towards his site, and stared at the empty space in front of her. For almost a minute, she did not move a single muscle. Only her face showed the barest hint of the emotional turmoil wrecking her after that reaction. Finally, she looked up at him and his heart shattered into a million pieces at the raw and vulnerable hurt displayed in her round eyes, in the crease of her brows and her opened mouth.  
"Sorry," Schneider gasped, the urge to relieve her of that pain overtaking him like a flood wave, "It's not... I... you... I... wine... you...you taste like wine." He finally manged to stutter a halfway coherent sentence and Pen covered her mouth with a hand, gasping as she understood what he was saying.  
"Oh...my God. I didn't even... Schneider, I'm so sorry."  
She was off the couch and reaching for him before he could even blink. He gulped and closed his eyes for a moment, squashing down the urge to take her hand and reunite their lips to swipe her mouth for every last trail of alcohol.  
He still brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before he could stop himself. He wanted nothing more tham to kiss her right now and it hurt. He tried to smile but it felt more like a very wobbly and very ugly grimace. He cupped her cheek and traced her lips with his thumb before recoiling as if burnt.  
He tried and failed again on an apologetic smile.  
"I...I don't think I can ever do that again, Pen. I'm sorry."  
"No, I'm sorry." She almost spat her words out as if she might choke on them if she didn't. "It's my fault. It was stupid."  
"No. No, it wasn't. Not in theory, at least. I've...thought about kissing you pretty often lately."  
"You did?" Something glittered in her eyes that made his heart clench.  
He scratched his beard, a hint of guilt lingering on his face. "Yeah. To be honest, I've wanted to kiss you for some time now. But..."  
"But I had to screw it up because I didn't think this through. Ugh! That's just so typical, isn't it?"  
He put his hand on her shoulder but it wasn't half as comforting as usual because she could feel the slight tremor running through it.  
"It's not your fault, Pen. It's in my brain. And I cannot and would not ask you to always keep me in mind when you want something for yourself. I mean, what, would you just stop drinking any alcohol on the off-chance we might kiss again? Nah. Nah, that's far too much to ask of you. It's my problem, not yours. Maybe we...we can try again after some time. When I've settled back into sobriety for a bit longer and can deal with the itch better again. And...and maybe then we can skip the alcohol for you at that evening, just to be sure."  
She looked up at him with unshed tears brimming in her eyes, desolation and hope and want tearing at her insides. She nodded and wiped away the tears. "Yeah. Maybe. I'd like that."  
"I'd like that, too," Schneider admits with a fragile smile. He let his tears run freely because he was absolutely certain: if - when he would feel the soft pressure of her lips on his again, all he would be able to remember would be the lingering taste of red wine at the back of his throat and the bitter echo of a heart loving too fiercly.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. I dunno where that came from but I really had to get it out of my system. I promise next time I'll write something nicer.


End file.
